I Wanted to Be a Guest in My Own House

Dear Delyara, I wanted to walk in and smell dinner I didn’t cook. I wanted someone else to know where the clean towels were. I wanted to ask what was happening instead of already being the one holding the answer. I wanted to sit down and have the room keep going without me. That fantasy hit me while I was setting out forks. Not leaving. Not escaping. Just being temporarily unessential. I think that’s one of the hardest parts of domestic life when you are the reliable one. Your usefulness gets so built into the structure of the home that even imagining being a guest feels emotional. Tonight, it did.